


Would you lie with me and just forget the world

by platypusperson



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Feelings, M/M, Mentions of bad parents, Mentions of non-con, Or at least dub con because prostitution/stripping, Requited Love, Stripper! Grantaire, Strippers & Strip Clubs, no smut though, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:51:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platypusperson/pseuds/platypusperson
Summary: In which Grantaire is secretly a stripper, it's Courfeyrac's birthday, and Enjolras has feelings. Somehow, they all go together.





	Would you lie with me and just forget the world

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a fanfic, so I hope you like it! Please feel free to leave kudos/comments/suggestions/criticisms!  
> Also, warnings for mentions of past dub con or implied dub con, Grantaire and Eponine are strippers but also basically prostitutes so.....  
> Oh, and title is from the song Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol, because it's what I thought of and got stuck in my head when I wrote the part about them on the bed.

In hindsight, Grantaire should have known something was up as soon as he saw the varied reactions to Courfeyrac’s birthday. The excitement in Bahorel’s yells, the dread and frustration all over Enjolras’s face, the way Courf wiggled his eyebrows suggestively when he asked if Grantaire was going to “the club” with them after the meeting. He should have asked what exactly they were up to, should have realized that this was the one night a year Courfeyrac would get whatever he wanted and that he was, well, Courf. But he had been tired after submitting a major art project earlier in the day, and he was already dreading his upcoming overnight shift (fully aware that at the end of the night he was scheduled to take a round in one of the private rooms, and God, he didn’t mind the job that much but he hated the things that could happen in those private rooms), and so instead of asking questions he just apologized repeatedly to Courf for not being able to join the celebration and bought him a drink to try to make up for it.

And so after the meeting, while everyone else was beginning their pre-game drinks at the Musain and getting pumped up for the wild night ahead, Grantaire said his goodbyes and slipped out of the bar. He decided to walk instead of taking the bus, because Club Thenardier was only a few blocks away from the Musain and it was a relatively warm night, and besides, with all the excitement surrounding Courfeyrac, the meeting had ended early for once, giving Grantaire had plenty of time to take the 20 minute walk and still be able to get ready for his shift.

When he finally reached the club, he took in a last few breaths of the fresh night air before entering the smokey alley next to it and throwing open the back door. The tiny hallway he stepped into was already hot and sweaty and crowded with dancers and other staff members rushing back and forth, trying to get everyone dressed and ready to go before the Friday night rush began in earnest. Grantaire shoved his way through until he reached the dressing rooms, where he spotted a familiar face.

Eponine was perched on a stool in front of one of the mirrors, carefully applying eyeliner. “Well, well, look who is actually on time for once,” she drawled, glancing up at his reflection in the mirror.

Grantaire flopped down on the stool next to hers. “Do mine?” he asked, grabbing his own makeup bag (he had been doing this long enough to realize that it was both unsanitary and unpractical to be constantly using Eponine’s makeup) from under the counter.

She rolled her eyes in fake exasperation, but snatched the proffered tube and leaned in to get at his eyes, placing her right hand on his cheek none too gently to steady herself. “Parnasse came by already, dropped off your outfit and said you’re going on solo tonight. Something about more gay guys coming in? Anyway, apparently you’re hot shit right now.”

Grantaire groaned, leaning back as soon as she’d released his face and tossed the eyeliner back at him. “Really? Tonight? I’m already exhausted from this project I had due today.” Turning to face his own mirror so he could put on the rest of his makeup, he continued, “Besides, it’s probably just because I’m booked for a private room later, so he’s trying to show me off and attract customers.”

He saw Eponine briefly scrunch up her nose beside him at the mention of the private rooms (he knew that she had been working there more than twice as long as him and had had to put up with far worse and weirder things in those private rooms than he normally dealt with), but she shook it off and replied, “At least you’ll be making good tips. I’ll only be getting a third of the stage to work with tonight.” She glanced at the clock on the wall, shimmying into some kind of glittery leotard (right in front of him, nobody cared very much about modesty when you were working in a strip club) and grabbing her high heels. “Speaking of which, it is time for me to go get this party started. See ya out there, stud,” she announced, sarcastically blowing him a kiss as she walked out the door.

He shook his head at her while he put the finishing touches on his face. He didn’t love wearing makeup, but it was a necessity if you wanted to have any kind of facial features under those bright stage lights. He would probably blot some of the lipstick off before he went to walk the floor, however, as guys never seemed to like it the way they admired the eyeliner on him.

Stowing his makeup bag, Grantaire walked over to the rack at the side of the room. He pushed aside various hangers until he spotted one bearing a sticky note with a large “R” scrawled on it. It held a navy blue jacket and pants (matching the navy briefs he had been instructed to wear), as well as a green and white tie. Some kind of sexy businessman, he supposed? Sighing at how cliche it was, he changed quickly, folding his normal clothes up and stacking them neatly in the corner, on top of a plastic bag so that nothing would get too dirty (or too glitterified).

He was just adjusting the tie around his neck when the door flew open. It was Floreal, a fellow stripper who he considered a friend but wasn’t nearly as close with as he was with Eponine. “Hey R, Montparnasse says that you need to get out here, you’re on soon.”

“Okay, I’m coming, just one second,” he responded, and with a few final adjustments and a last glance in the mirror, he followed her out.

Montparnasse was waiting for them in the curtains next to the stage, holding a small silver briefcase. “Really?” Grantaire grumbled as the case was shoved towards him, annoyed both at having props and at how damn stereotypical this was. Yep, definitely some kind of sexy businessman.

Parnasse shut him up with a glare and a suggestion to “try to look appealing out there”, before he was scurrying off to harass someone else about god knows what. Floreal, still beside him, laughed a little. “For someone who says he doesn’t care about anything, that guy sure tries to run a tight ship around here.”

Grantaire smiled at the truth in that, and he and Floreal chatted for a while until suddenly Montparnasse was gripping his arm (where did the guy even come from?) and muttering “30 seconds” into his ear, and then the loud music came to a stop and a girl in white feathers was walking past him and there was a loud announcement of “Next up, one of our house favorites, R!” over the speakers and just like that he was ripping his arm free and strutting out onto the stage.

He went straight for the center pole, grateful for having practiced his solo routine recently, and leaned against it while the crowd hollered until the next song started. And then he was dancing, forgetting himself completely and losing himself in the music, the routine.

He swung the briefcase around, dancing with it until it became too much of a nuisance and he slid it away from himself. He ripped off his shirt, then his pants a few minutes later, throwing them into the audience with reckless abandon and leaving him in only his briefs and the tie. He twirled around on the pole, squatting and thrusting and rolling his hips when necessary. He crouched down in front of the guys (and some girls) who were standing close to the stage, continuing to dance even as he presented his body and allowed them to shove money into his briefs.

He danced and danced, caught up in the exhilaration and adrenaline, until the music began to fade and it was time for him to struck his final pose, to raucous applause. Out here, Grantaire didn’t exist, just R.

Once his set was over, Grantaire returned to his dressing room in order to take off the tie and blot his lipstick as planned, then he quickly made his way out to the stairs. This was the part where he had to make his rounds on the floor, seeing if anyone had liked his dancing enough to give him extra money or buy a lap dance or maybe even book him later. It wasn’t super fun, but it was far more relaxing than being up on stage or in a room.

He had made his way past a few tables when he heard a voice behind him say, “Grantaire?” Like an idiot, he didn’t even think about who the voice belonged to, assuming it was Eponine (he wouldn’t realize it sounded nothing like her until after) because who else would call him by his real name in this place? “Yeah?” he said as he turned around. Standing in front of him, looking hesitant, was Enjolras.

“Oh shit,” Grantaire said, stumbling backwards a little in surprise. He looked around in a panic, trying to find a way out or a good excuse for being there. So much for this being relaxing. “I was just, uh, meeting someone here. A friend. Meeting a, um, friend here. I don’t, like, come here a lot or anything.”

Enjolras gave him a weak, slightly sad smile, and nodded slightly at his bare chest and briefs. “We saw your...performance, Grantaire.”

“Oh,” Grantaire looked down at himself, embarrassed (by the situation, by his appearance, and by how lame his attempt at an excuse had been). Then his head snapped up as he fully processed what Enjolras had just said. “Wait, we?”

Looking even more uncomfortable, if that was possible, Enjolras glanced behind him. Following his gaze, Grantaire saw all of Les Amis sitting at a table, watching them, facial expressions ranging from uncomfortable to shocked to concerned. “Oh, shit.” He sighed with resignation, looked around as if trapped, then stepped forward and collapsed into an empty seat at the table. He was busted.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asked, voice small, not making eye contact with anyone.

There were a few coughs from around the table, until Courf spoke up, looking a little regretful. “I managed to convince them all that a strip club would be the best way to celebrate my birthday…” he trailed off.

Oh right, his birthday, Grantaire thought, nodding in understanding. He should have known by how excited Courf had been about the plans, but had brushed it off because, well, Courf was always pretty excited. He felt a twinge of guilt about ruining the celebration, but ignored it, more focused on how the side of his life he had worked so hard to keep a secret from them had now been brutally exposed.

A hand on his arm pulled Grantaire out of his thoughts. “What’s going on, Taire?” Jehan asked softly, their face full of compassion.

He laughed a little, bitterly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a stripper.”

There was a moment of silence before other voice started to pipe up. “How?” “Why?” “For how long?”

Grantaire refused to look up to see who was who. “My parents said they didn’t want anything to do with me after my freshman year of college, when I told them I was going to major in art. Something about being a disappointment, not taking my future seriously, etc. etc.. Thankfully, I was already on a pretty good scholarship, so tuition hasn’t been an issue, but I needed a place to live. They made it pretty clear I couldn’t go back home for the summer, so I stayed here in the city, found a cheap apartment. My savings were running out fast, though, so I got a job at the Musain. That’s how I met you guys. It still wasn’t enough money to pay the rent for long, so when a guy on the street told me this place was hiring, I figured I’d check it out. It pays well, enough that I could drop my other job once school started up again, so I stayed. I’ve been working here for almost two years now.”

The table went pretty quiet at that. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Combeferre asked gently, no accusation in his tone.

Grantaire snorted. “Besides the fact that half the stuff that happens at this club is illegal?” He heard a small, outraged gasp behind him. “Pretend you didn’t hear that, Enjolras. The last thing I need is you trying to call the cops on this place for human rights violations. Not that I’m sure that would even work. Hell, I’ve seen cops come in here to join on occasion.” He shook his head, realizing he’d gotten off topic (as usual). “I don’t know. It’s not exactly your typical, respectable job. I wasn’t sure how to explain about it at first, and then it just became easier to continue keeping it a secret. I guess I just…” He got quieter. “I liked hanging out with you guys. I didn’t want you to think I was disgusting, or not good enough for you.” He hung his head once he finished, not wanting to see the horrified looks that he was sure were on his friends faces or watch them tell him that they didn’t want him near them anymore.

Suddenly, Musichetta was next to him, hugging him fiercely. “You idiot,” she groaned. “We’re your friends and we’re not going anywhere. We aren’t going to judge you over how you get your money. We don’t care that you’re a stripper, you’re not disgusting and you have always been more than good enough for us. We just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Grantaire looked up in surprise, slowly starting to hug her back. “Really?” he questioned. Everyone else at the table started to chime in their agreement, until they were all pulling him into a giant group hug. He found himself tearing up a little at how amazing his friends were. He was so lucky to have them.

“Ahem,” a voice came from behind them. Grantaire stiffened, turning to find Montparnasse standing there, looking displeased. “I hate to break this up,” he said sarcastically, “But this is not time to be socializing, unless, of course, one of you fine gentlemen would like any services from R, or perhaps to purchase him for later this evening.”

“Purchase him?” Enjolras repeated, in a choked voice. Grantaire squeezed his eyelids shut, praying that he wouldn’t make a scene.

“Yes,” Montparnasse replied in a slick voice, going into salesman mode, “You could get a private room for as long as you want with him, charged by the hour. Anything you want.”

Grantaire cringed, both at hearing his boss say that to his friends (who looked uncomfortable again, suddenly understanding part of what the not-so-legal side of the business he had been referring to was) and out of worry for how Enjolras would react to that. Enjolras clearly did not look happy, but he glanced at Grantaire and took a few visible deep breaths. “How much for the rest of his shift then?”

Grantaire’s jaw dropped as he watched Enjolras take out his wallet and pay several hundred dollars to an obviously thrilled Parnasse. The guy he’d been crushing on for the past year wanted to spend the night with him? But wait, don’t get too excited, he reminded himself. Enjolras probably didn’t mean this the way Montparnasse did.

Sure enough, as soon as Montparnasse had walked away, Enjolras turned back to the group and noticed the shock on everyone’s faces. “I didn’t mean...I hope I didn’t overstep,” he said to Grantaire, suddenly looking nervous. “I don’t like...expect anything from you or anything like that, I just thought that since we’re here, maybe you’d prefer to take a break or not have to do stuff with strangers or...I don’t know. Is that okay? I can go cancel, or leave, or…”

“No, it’s perfectly fine,” Grantaire interrupted. “I hate working the private rooms. That’s just...it’s very nice of you, but that was a lot of money, and I’m really not worth it.”

Enjolras looked at him quizzically. “The money is from my parents, so that’s not an issue, and of course you’re worth it,” he said simply, as if it was obvious.

“Oh, well, um, okay then.” Grantaire didn’t know how to respond to that. Bouncing on the balls of his feet like he always did when he was nervous, or overexcited, he turned back to the rest of the group and hugged everyone goodbye, thanking them for being so understanding and wishing Courf a less awkward rest of his birthday night.

Then, suddenly feeling confident (after all, Enjolras had spent _money_ to be with _him_ ), he grabbed Enjolras by the hand and started leading him past the bar (behind them he could hear some of the Amis, most likely Courf and Bahorel, hooting and cheering as they went), to the side hallway where the private rooms were. “Come on then, my client,” he said with a wink.

Eyebrows raised, but grinning slightly, Enjolras followed him into a small room decked out in cheap (and extremely filthy) carpeting and a single, queen-size bed. There was a bucket of sex toys in the corner (Enjolras visibly shuddered at the thought of how unsanitary those might be) next to a small table holding condoms, lube, and towels.

Grantaire flopped down on the bed, patting the space beside him. “There’s nowhere else to sit in here, other than the carpet, and I can promise that you don’t want to get any closer to that than you have to.”

Laughing at that, Enjolras sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.

“No, no, that won’t do. What kind of poor excuse for a stripper do you think I am?” Shaking his head, Grantaire reached out and grabbed the collar of Enjolras’s shirt, pulling him closer. Without thinking, he started to trail his fingers lightly down Enjolras’s chest, slowly unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

“Grantaire- ” Enjolras squeaked, face turning bright red.

Grantaire pulled away sharply, as if burned. “Shit, sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I swear, I’m so sorry,” he apologized, freaking out internally. He’d probably freaked Enjolras out, and Enjolras would regret paying all that money to spend time with him, and they weren’t even supposed to be spending this time together the way Grantaire couldn’t help but wish they were, even though he should be grateful not to because normally he hated the private rooms, but this was Enjolras, and....

Enjolras huffed a laugh. “You’re not making me uncomfortable, embarrassingly the opposite in fact.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said softly. So he wasn’t disgusted? “Then why…”

Enjolras sighed. “I’m not going to take advantage of you just because you’re a stripper, Grantaire. You’re still my friend and regardless of how I might feel about you, I would never want you to feel obligated to do something with me just because I paid for it.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said again. That made sense. But wait a second… “What was that about how you feel about me?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Do you really want me to spell it out? I’m pretty sure the whole world is aware that I have feelings for you.”

This time Grantaire was the one squeaking. “What?”

“You didn’t know? I’m sorry if that’s weird or if that makes this weird now, I swear I still don’t expect anything from you or want to take advantage of you, I honestly thought it was pretty obvious.” Enjolras leaned forward, putting his head in his hands slightly, looking distinctly nervous but also somewhat resigned.

Grantaire laughed out loud at that, causing Enjolras to look up at him from his hands. “Enjolras, I’ve had a crush on you for ages. I always thought _I_ was the one being obvious about it.”

He watched as Enjolras brightened, then looked suspicious. “Are you just saying that because I technically bought you for the night and want to make me feel good about myself?”

“Oh my god, chill out. I’m well aware that you’re not here to take advantage of me. But you...do you really…” Suddenly nervous that maybe Enjolras was the one trying to show him a good time, or cheer him up somehow, Grantaire couldn’t get the words out. The idea of Enjolras actually liking him seemed far too good to be true.

Enjolras’s face slowly spread into a smile. “Yes, really. Whatever you were about to say, really. I’m crazy about you. Umm...can I…” He leaned in a little, looking hesitant again.

“Please,” Grantaire whispered, and then he leaned forward and met Enjolras half way, and then they were kissing, and it wasn’t anything like how he had dreamed it would be but somehow it was better, because the way their mouths fit together just felt right, like a cozy, roaring campfire instead of the fireworks above he’d imagined.

They kissed for a few minutes before they each pulled away, both needing to catch their breath. “So,” Grantaire said, a mischievous glint in his eye, “Since we’ve clearly established by this point that it wouldn’t be taking advantage of me, I don’t suppose you want to try using this bed for its intended purpose?”

Enjolras sucked in a breath, clearly interested by the thought. After a moment's pause, though, he shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, honestly, it’s just...I wouldn’t mind doing this somewhere a bit more classy? No offense, and don’t think I’m not intrigued by the suggestion, I just, well, I just feel like you deserve better than this for our first time doing anything. I know it sounds dumb, but…”

Grantaire watched Enjolras blush and bite his lip nervously. He couldn’t help but smile at how sweet and romantic this boy was. “That is perfectly fine,” he said, leaning forward to give Enjolras a kiss on the cheek (which, if anything, made him blush harder) to illustrate just how fine it was. “Anything you’d like to do instead?”

Still blushing, Enjolras asked, “Could we just lay here for a while? Together?”

Smiling, Grantaire reached out and took Enjolras’s hand. “Of course we can,” he whispered back.

And so they lay beside each other on the bed like that for the rest of the night, holding hands (and eventually snuggling, and at one point falling asleep on each other) and talking and learning everything they could about each other.

“You realize that I’m not going to give up stripping because of this, right?” Grantaire mentioned at one point, trying unsuccessfully to sound sure instead of worried.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Enjolras replied, mock-offended. “Though if you don’t like the job itself and it’s only about the money, my apartment is paid for completely by my parents and has plenty of extra space…”

“Hmmm,” was all Grantaire said, noncommittally, but he was smiling.

And if six months later, when Grantaire did finally decide to quit stripping, he realized that he had already been practically living at Enjolras’s, could anyone really blame him for taking up the offer?

**Author's Note:**

> A few things that I couldn't fit into this fic or couldn't explain very well but wanted to mention as part of this story (not necessary to read if you don't want to though):  
> \- Grantaire and Eponine are roommates, at least until he moves in with Enjolras, which is another reason he was able to afford rent and quit his job at the Musain. They met when Grantaire started working at the club and became BFF's right away, and Eponine was desperate to get away from her parents even if she was still working at a club they owned, so he offered her his spare mattress and she moved in with him right away. When Grantaire moves out she finally takes legal custody of her younger siblings in order to get them away from her parents and so they move in with her, and she gets a second job at the Musain in order to make ends meet and eventually becomes friends with all the Amis and they're all happy!  
> \- When Grantaire and Enjolras are lying on the bed together, they're holding hands and then eventually snuggling and at some point Grantaire definitely plays with Enjolras's hair for a while, because his curls are amazing and just as soft as he's always imagined they would be, and Enjolras ends up pushing into his hand like a cat and then inevitably gets embarrassed about just how nice it feels and starts blushing again, which leads to Grantaire playing with his hair even more and also telling him that he's adorable (which leads to more blushing...it's a vicious cycle).  
> \- Enjolras is an extremely supportive boyfriend of Grantaire as a stripper and recognizes that it is a job and it is separate from their relationship and isn't him cheating on him or anything like that, and would never dream of pressuring Grantaire into quitting for his sake or anything like that. He does get a little upset occasionally when Grantaire comes home unhappy after a rough night, but he never says anything discouraging and just makes him tea and wraps him in blankets and cuddles him and takes extra care of him until he feels better. Grantaire knows that if Enjolras really wanted him to quit, he probably would give in and do it, but likes having money and independence and still making his own choices because they're in a healthy relationship, and so he's very grateful that Enjolras never asks him to and when he finally does quit, it's because he wants to do it for himself.  
> \- Just so it's clear, even though Enjolras tells Grantaire he wouldn't have to pay rent, when Grantaire moves in with him it isn't for the money (even though Enjolras's parents are extremely rich and pay for him because he's still a university student (though Enjolras does complain about how wasteful they are with their money and how unfair it is for them to have so much when others have so little, and he never wants to rub it in the faces of Grantaire or Feuilly or Eponine or anyone because he knows that most people don't have it as easy as him and he doesn't want to diminish their struggles, by this point he has given up lecturing them and just takes the money and tries to use it in a productive and helpful manner) and so money really isn't an issue for him and he would happily support Grantaire), it's because they've reached that stage of their relationship where they're in love and want to try living together. Grantaire has also saved up enough money that he could pay rent if asked, because he doesn't want to feel like he's taking charity or dependent on Enjolras, and is also starting to sell a few pieces of his art and make money that way (which he's nervous about, because who would want to buy his art? but the rest of the Amis are supportive and encourage him to give it a shot because they can see how amazing his work is).  
> Sorry that these got a bit long! Just a few more thoughts and ideas to fill in any gaps in the story and give a bit more info about the characters. Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!


End file.
